Necromancy
by winterelf86
Summary: Part of the new Rumbelle war on Tumblr. Death, resurrection, and angst. Tread carefully!


**A/N: Oh dear, yes a Rumbelle War has started on Tumblr. Only this war will have a mix of smut, fluff, and angst ( I think the last one did but I'm not sure). This is a retaliation to ****ripperblackstaff****. I have my claws out, apparently.**

**I'm not sure how great this is, but I took just a smidgen of what happens to an OC of mine (who is a necromancer, and makes a MAJOR boo-boo) and decided to have Rumple play with it a bit. I also had to take some liberties in order to make this work. **

**Like I said, depending on how great this is….you'll probably hate me for it xD And no beta was used for this one, so forgive any mistakes.**

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He tried to save her, but his rescue had proved futile. The pain in his chest had been reduced to a dull thud as he stared into her blue eyes, once full of light, now had the life snuffed out of them. The sight of her broken body at the bottom of the tower and the blood leaking from her open skin would forever be seared into his grieving mind. Then he felt it, a touch of her life inside her, almost ready to flee.

He was Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One. If he could concoct a Dark Curse, then he could bring Belle back from the brink of death with the last flutter of life that still clung to her physical body. Rumple felt that bit of life still fighting to stay in the depths of her brain. The rules of magic be damned, he thought to himself. Bringing back the dead was a forbidden endeavor not because it couldn't be done, but because there were consequences of performing such a feat. Seeing his Beauty, her body limp and lifeless, and her soul at the threshold of the living and dead he made up his mind.

Picking her up in his arms with care, and holding her close to his chest he disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke, later appearing in his laboratory in the tower of the Dark Castle. A snap of his fingers produced a long wooden table in front of him, where he gently placed Belle. With a tender stroke of his claws he smoothed her auburn curls back from her face, and ran a finger down her pale cheek.

"I failed to save you from the fall, sweetheart. But I will save you from the pits of the Underworld if I can help it." He said, as his impish high pitched tone was replaced with the softness of his real accent. Leaning forward he pressed his lips to her forehead, where the skin had turned cold from death approaching as each minute passed.

Rumple wasted no time with mending her bones and flesh, his work slowly knitting the torn and shattered pieces together. The process took several hours, and frequent breaks so he could rejuvenate his powers. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found that the magic working on her flesh kept the last bit of life in her body, which meant hope still filled his heart, desperate to push the grief aside.

The blood returned to her body through a spark of magic that rested at his fingertips. He felt her soul spring back into its physical shell, where the heart began to pump at its normal pace and the brain worked to come to life again. Color came back into her skin, as the blood ran through her veins and arteries. Belle's chest rose and fell with each breath, but her eyes remained closed.

Puzzled, Rumple began to speak to her. "Wake up, my dear Belle."

On cue, her eyelids slid open to reveal the brilliant blue of the eyes that had captivated him the first day they met. Something was off, but he ignored it. His heart fluttered with joy seeing his Belle alive and breathing.

"Belle….sweetheart," he murmured, reaching out to touch her face. He felt something wet slide down his face and he realized they were tears. The terror of losing her had weighed heavily on him, but now it felt like it lifted off him, giving him relief.

But that relief was extinguished with the words that poured from her rosebud mouth.

"Who is Belle?"

The world seemed to halt as it came crashing down on him. Yes, this was the price of the magic, but a price he could fix. Rumple was sure of it.

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind from the shock. "You're Belle, you may not remember, but I will help you remember."

"And who are you?"

Belle's voice did not sound like her, and it chilled him to the bone. Her accent sounded flat, her voice monotonous. Her eyes were glassy, as if the life failed to reach them, and she didn't blink. She stared into nothingness.

No, he would fix this.

"You will know in good time, Belle. I will help you through this, but know that you can trust me." He placed his hand on his chest and kept it there, afraid to make any sudden movements that might startle her.

She stared at him, and did nothing else.

Days passed and he had dressed her in silks and velvets, and even showered her in jewels. He should have done this as soon as he realized he loved her, but as a coward he couldn't bring himself to. Now he had a second chance to make this right.

But all she did was stare out the window, watching some birds fly by. An eerie silence filled the air when he tried to talk to her, and her arms hung limp at her sides as if she lacked the strength to lift them. This lifeless doll was not his Belle. No, his Belle laughed at his quips. Her light had seeped into his darkness and chased it away. All he felt now was an emptiness that filled his heart and mind, a hole that could never be filled by the marionette wandering his home.

For once, since acquiring his dark powers, a solution to this dilemma could not be found.

His answer came when he heard a scream that pierced his tumultuous thoughts, bringing him back to his current predicament. The bloodcurdling cry led him to the Great Hall, where Belle cowered on the floor, her hands on either side of her head.

Tears streamed down her face, which contorted with pain. Unsure of what to make of this sudden change, his only reaction was to run to her and gather her in his arms. Cradling Belle in his arms as he sat on the floor, he felt her still, but the tears kept pouring from her eyes.

"It hurts, Rumple. Please make it stop," she whimpered and pleaded. Her blue eyes even begged him for mercy.

"What's the matter, Belle? I'll make it stop if you tell me what's wrong." His voice cracked with emotion, his own tears threatening to spill down his face.

"Everything. Everything is wrong, I shouldn't be here. I died, Rumple. Why did you bring me back?"

The words he wanted to say would not come forth. He swallowed hard, and willed himself to speak. Rumple refused to play the coward any longer.

"I didn't want to lose you, Belle. You're my light amidst an ocean of darkness. I couldn't keep you dead, not with some sliver of life still in you."

Belle closed her eyes, and groaned as another wave of pain hit her. "This isn't right, Rumple. I'm supposed to be dead. Please, release me. If you really do love me, as True Love's Kiss told me, you will give me mercy. This is no way to live, Rumple."

Belle was right. Oh gods, she was right. The pain of that reality hit him and stabbed him like a knife, and twisted inside him as he made his decision.

He nodded, the tears endless as they streamed down his face. "For you, Belle. For you."

A glow of purple magic encased his hand before he lifted it, claws curled and ready to strike. He heard Belle breathe a sigh of relief as she closed her eyes, waiting for and welcoming the blow.

"I love you, Belle," Rumple said, though his voice quivered.

"I love you too, Rumple," Belle returned, a smile forming on her face. "I always will, and I'll watch over you forever."

Rumple sobbed as he flicked his hand, the magic rushing forward and hitting Belle, taking what life was left away from her body. She died with a smile on her face, but Rumple sat on the floor in agony as he held her limp body, rocking back and forth. Rumple stayed in that same spot until the rays of the morning sun peeked through the windows and hit his back. He felt the warmth on him, but snarled at the touch of warm light.

This place would no longer see the light of the sun, he told himself.

Laying Belle's body down he walked over to the windows, where the curtains were open because of her. A flourish of his hand closed the curtains and the sound of nails hitting the window frame broke the silence.

If Belle no longer lived, there would be no more light.


End file.
